


suit and tie

by choucobos



Series: daemonic [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, considerably less gladio than the others unfortunately, daemon AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 01:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choucobos/pseuds/choucobos
Summary: You craved the presence of someone else. Someone who could be there. Someone who could just bear to stay with you, even if for no reason. It wouldn’t be bad to have that, even just for a short while. But that was asking too much of mankind. Everyone had something to do and somewhere to go. You just needed to accept that.And then, from the shadows of the room, he appeared. Your savior, you later called him.





	1. Chapter 1

When you met him, you were lonely.

Not literally, of course. Your two friends who were practically your housemates now with how much they slept over never failed to put a smile on your face or keep you company when big jerky boyfriends dumped you for some thot on the street. Prompto was quick to crack a joke about it. “Begone, thot,” he’d said and Noctis snorted so loud, you would’ve worried if not for the fact that  you were laughing hard, too. You clutched your sides, wheezing as he laughed at your god-awful laugh. All three of you were hollering for air soon enough, unable to stop laughing.

Who needed big, jerky boyfriends who dumped you for thots? Certainly not you, Noctis pointed out as he slipped a bowl of popcorn into your hands. He strode over to where Prompto was working on picking some shoddy movie that you would spend the night making fun of and hit him over the head when the blond presented him with a _terrible_ movie that you didn’t even remembering buying. You smiled to yourself as you relaxed into the blanket cocoon that they made for you on the soda. Movie nights like these tended to get cold, and a cold living room meant a complaining Prompto. And movie nights like these with your soft, fluffy blanket, terrible movies, and your two best friends were all you needed in times like these. You didn’t need anyone other than yourself to make you happy. All you probably needed was a can of beer, maybe, and a trouble-free life.

You wish you kept that sort of thinking, though. On some days, you felt like you were kidding yourself with how much you tried to convince yourself on how satisfied you were with your life. You weren’t, actually. You weren’t  fooling anybody. You were undeniably lonely, a poor girl in need of human contact and attention. But who would need you? You were just being selfish. You couldn’t expect everyone to make time for you whenever you wished. Everyone had their own lives to live: Prompto, Noctis, that little boy at the elementary school you always passed by on your way to the university, the barista at your local coffee shop, and even that creep of a psychology professor who always assured you and your classmates that he was there to talk to you if you ever needed it. Which you thought was bullshit, because who was busy now? Not that you wanted Professor Caligo's company. No one did. Anyone who said that they enjoyed his physics class was lying through their teeth. It had to be a fact by now.

But you digress.

As you wrapped yourself your blanket on your sofa, you waited for the day to end so that Prompto and Noctis can come barging in again like every other day they visited. They needed to start paying rent. They had a room for when they visited and everything! They even occupied the second bathroom of your apartment!

( Actually, you started finding little envelops of money labeled “rent” on your counter in Noctis’ familiar scrawl. You didn’t actually mean it when you joked about it, but it’s not like you were gonna complain. Whatever helped you keep living under a roof, right? )

And as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket on that sofa, you thought about how lonely you were. As the sun dipped below the horizon with the TV playing some show for background noise, you felt miserable. It didn’t matter if you were constantly surrounded by loving friends. You were lonely. No one other than Noctis and Prompto particularly cared about you. You detached yourself from your family, your friends, everyone. You moved to Insomnia, not knowing anyone in the city, and you welcome with open arms by the two people who you came to call your closest friends. Your job, your university – there was no one else you knew there. It was just you and the ever-present loneliness that hung over you.

You craved the presence of someone else. Someone who could be there. Someone who could just bear to stay with you, even if for no reason. It wouldn’t be bad to have that, even just for a short while. But that was asking too much of mankind. Everyone had something to do and somewhere to go. You just needed to accept that.

And then, from the shadows of the room, _he_ appeared. Your savior, you later called him.

You didn’t notice him at first. You just thought that the little light that came from the TV was playing tricks on you. You dismissed the bright green eyes that seemed to shine from the darkness, even if you weren’t even that focused on the rerun of _Versus_ ( your favorite show, actually, but you were so lost in your thoughts, that you didn’t seem to care very much ). Your reverie was the reason you screamed bloody fucking murder when that daemon cleared his throat to grab your attention.

“Who are you?” You demanded, standing on your sofa and wrapping yourself in your blanket. You shied away from that mysterious man, wracking your brain for answers to questions that wanted to fall from your lips. Did you lock the door when you came home? Did you hear anyone knocking or breaking in? Did Prompto and Noctis come home with a friend?

The daemon did not answer. He looked at you pensively, those startling green eyes framed by his black sclera. His hair was smoothed back, but it didn’t look that bad. In fact, it wasn’t even completely smoothed back – it puffed up a bit that front, which you thought was a little comical. He wore a pair of glasses that were perched upon his long nose, which baffled you, because since when did daemons need glasses? Where would they even _get_ them?

Actually, you didn’t even know if he was a daemon. You’ve heard of them, of course, but you’ve never personally seen one ( until, perhaps, now ). And this guy – he looked _nothing_ like the daemons you’d been told about. He looked oddly human, except for his eyes, which could’ve been contacts for all you knew. Some freak with a thing for cool contacts just broke your house and you were probably about to die alone. Your thoughts about your pathetic loneliness returned.

“I asked, who are you?” You repeated, brandishing a throw pillow threateningly. “I swear to god, I’ll call the cops and-and I’ll scream.”

He seemed to mull over your words for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak. He spoke with a strange accent not unfamiliar to you, but it was still uncommon around Insomnia. It was smooth and short and beautiful all at the same time and it even provided you with a sense of ease. You relaxed a bit, but you kept holding the pillow out to him to show that if he _dared_ to try anything, you had an impeccable aim.

“Ignis,” he offered finally. “And you, miss?”

Seriously, who was this guy? What burglar came to someone’s house while they were there and introduced themselves, expecting a nice introduction in return? Perhaps this guy was touched in the head.

Nevertheless, you offered him your name – first name only – anyway, because he didn’t actually _seem_ to be a burglar. Maybe you had left your door unlocked and this guy was just lost and had been knocking at your door until he realized it was unlocked and he just entered. No, this wasn’t some Goldilocks folktale. Why would he do that? His pressed suit jacket and fancy shoes told you that he was some well-off gentleman who _definitely_ didn’t get lost in your type of neighborhood easily. And he _definitely_ didn’t enter people’s houses without permission either. Maybe he was some sort of cosplayer? You heard that people had begun to start a fad about daemons despite the awful rumors about them. Maybe this guy really was just a weirdo?

“Right, [ Name ]” –your name sounded like someone worth his time in his smooth voice- “I ought to explain what I am.”

“A deranged psycho?” You asked helplessly, stepping off your sofa. Ignis pursed his lips.

“A daemon, actually.”

You cursed and then laughed wryly. Your fears were affirmed. Now what?

“Why are you here? What do you want with me? I’ll still call the cops…”

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors about daemons then,” he tiredly responded, frowning. His green eyes flickered slightly and you wondered if it was just a trick of the light.

“You… want to consume my soul and destroy my body then?” You hesitantly ask.

“Of course not,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “Not all daemons are malicious. We simply feed off of certain things that you humans provide with your overflowing myriad of emotions.”

“Um. So why are some people dead because of daemons?”

“I might have said that not all daemons are malicious, but of course, you have the ever-present ‘bad apples’, so to spek.”

“So… all daemons do is feed off of emotions.”

“Yes. But again, there are some who are the more… murderous type.” His tone made you shiver slightly. He had to be doing that on purpose.

“So what do you feed off of?” You ask curiously, lowering the throw pillow. His green eyes flashed again and you _swore_ you saw it completely this time. A small, unreadable smile played upon his lips. He turned to inspect the pictures on the walls before answering. His voice was slightly amused and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Human desire,” he answered simply. “Longing. Raw _want_. The like.”

He turned back to you. “You, ah, had quite the raw desire that I particularly enjoy from humans.”

You felt disgusted. You were just _food_ to this guy. He wasn’t going to kill you, but… somehow, it made you feel even _more_ useless than you already did. You supposed it was reasonable – why would he bother caring about you? Daemons were quite clearly the superior race above humans. You were weaker than Ignis, and anyone you know would probably be destroyed by him in a second. You had no room to protest and it _disgusted_ you.

Anyway, you brought it upon yourself. You felt lonely despite being surrounded with all that could make a person happy. Why did you have to want more?

Ignis sighed and approached you. You visibly flinched which made him frown again.

“You needn’t worry,” he softly assured you, placing a hand upon your upper arm. His touch against your skin calmed your nerves and you couldn’t fathom why. You felt as if his presence alone was enough for you to be alright. Maybe this was some weird daemon power, but you felt like you wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. Ignis was there and, despite being a daemon, he wasn’t bad. You could tell, even when he assured you with, “I promise to you that I bear no likeness to the malevolent daemons that kill needlessly. I won’t harm you.”

When you woke up, you were nestled in your bed, burrowed in your bedsheets. You freaked out for a moment, gasping loudly before realizing that your clothes didn’t seem like they’d been taken off at any point the night before. There was no sign of Ignis, either. Nothing that proved that he was even _there_ last night. Perhaps it was all a dream? It made for a lovely dream, with the residue of the lovely sensations of comfort pairing nicely with the morning light streaming in through your window. You marveled at the fact that you woke up before eleven o’clock for once. You basked in the light that rested upon you in your bedsheets and you just _laid_ there because you were so damn comfortable. You were nearly about to go back to sleep before the door burst open to let in a cheery Prompto, much to your chagrin. Bless his sweet heart and all, but it would be a trip through Ifrit’s asscrack and back for you to become a morning person.

“Hey, you left the door unlocked when I came home last night,” he complains, flopping backwards on your bed. He rests on top of your legs, sending a look your way.

“Did I? I wasn’t paying attention when I got home,” you fibbed, yawning. It wasn’t fully a lie, actually. You were stuck in that reverie as you went back home after classes.

“What’s on your mind?” Prompto asks. When you don’t answer, he pouts.

“C’mon, you know you can tell me anything,” he presses, sitting up. You roll your eyes and squirm out from under him.

“Nothing’s on my mind. Class was boring, so I was just tired,” you dismissively replied.

“You’re such a bad liar,” he points out, getting up from where he lay. “If you didn’t wanna say anything, then you could’ve just said so.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sincerely, regretting having to lie to your best friend.

“Nah, it’s good. Just… remember that I’m here, okay?” He grins. “Now get up and help me wake up Noct.”

With a mess of your already messy hair, he slipped off of your bed and hopped out of your room, calling Noctis’ name as hewent. You heard the familiar groan of a sleepy young man through the walls of the room adjacent to yours and you let out a small laugh. Swinging your legs over the side of your bed, you stand to get ready for a day of absolutely nothing. You were free all day – maybe you could treat yourself today and go out for once. Wishful thinking.

Instead, you find yourself before your laptop on the sofa while Noctis and Prompto argue over who gets the last Eggo waffles in the box. They didn’t have classes or work until the afternoon, so they seemed to want to hang out until then. They turned the TV on – you don’t remember turning it off last night, though – and changed the channel to some show that involved a kid protagonist. It was cute, but you didn’t particularly care about it. Your fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in “daemons” in the search. Predictably, it proved meaningless, only offering articles of how much they killed. Common types were named Goblins, Imps, and slime-like daemons were named after desserts, strangely enough. They were just monikers, however, and certainly unofficial. When you searched for their scientific names, they were so difficult to pronounce and comprehend, you stuck to calling them by their nicknames. They more human-like daemons were… terrifying. They blended into human society incredibly well .They sought food from humans, but most articles showed cases of daemons preying on the young and promiscuous and the easily fooled.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

You shrieked, caught off guard by Prompto’s cheery tune. You nearly dropped your laptop, catching it at the last minute before it hit the ground.

“Daemons, [ Name ]?” Noctis asked, peering over your shoulder? “What’s the sudden interest?”

You didn’t want to lie. You also knew that you _couldn’t_ lie, especially to your surprisingly perceptive friends. You sighed bitterly, unable to hide anything from the two.

You told them about what happened last night. And when you finished your spiel, Noctis _and_ Prompto seemed distracted. They looked at each other with concerned looks in their eyes before reverting their gaze back to you.

“Are you _sure_ it was a daemon?” Noctis asks, frowning.

“You _did_ say you were tired when you came home yesterday,” Prompto pointed out.

“I’m sure,” you insisted. Of course they would react like this – did you really expect them to believe you? But… perhaps they were right. Maybe you were just _tired_ and imagined the whole thing. There’s no way a daemon could’ve actually visited you. You wanted to believe that a daemon named Ignis actually did visit you, but what if it was just a dream?

“Listen, if he visits again, then tell us,” Noctis instructed you, oddly serious about the whole matter. “He might be lying to you about the whole ‘not harming you’ thing.”

 And that was that. Noctis and Prompto didn’t mention it again, despite the room feeling uncomfortably tense. You made an excuse of needing to do the groceries and escaped your own home.

That was probably the worst time you had around your best friends. You knew they meant well, but they acted so oddly that you weren’t sure how to react. It was new – they weren’t usually this serious or concerned. They should’ve cracked _jokes_ to make you feel better. Maybe they were just _really_ concerned?

You ended up treating yourself to a cute café that sold bubble tea after doing the groceries. Gods knew you needed it. It was the afternoon, so Noctis and Prompto were probably out of the house. You felt bad that you had to avoid them all morning, but you _had_ to get out of that stifling atmosphere. You loved them dearly, you really did. But something else was going on that they wouldn’t tell you.

You would have to be careful around Ignis.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were still cautious around Ignis, however. His visits were erratic and unpredictable. Sometimes you’d go an entire week without a visit from the daemon, but the next week, he’d be there in your living room, sitting on your sofa and reading a novel he pulled from your bookshelf. You supposed he was only there to feed, but you attempted conversation anyway. To your surprise, he catered to your wishes. He was a skilled conversationalist and not a single chat was uninteresting to you.

He visited again. And again. And you ended up not minding.

Like the good best friend you were, you told Noctis and Prompto, assuring him that Ignis did nothing but keep you company. Strangely enough, he only appeared whenever he knew you were alone. You spent time with the daemon, getting to know him and the true daemons, rather than the slandered version.

Noctis and Prompto were a bit reluctant, but after you insisted that you weren’t being harmed, they acquiesced to the evening daemon. You’re not quite sure why, but it seemed as if a great weight was lifted from your shoulders. You were happy that things weren’t so tense with your best friends any more.

You were still cautious around Ignis, however. His visits were erratic and unpredictable. Sometimes you’d go an entire week without a visit from the daemon, but the next week, he’d be there in your living room, sitting on your sofa and reading a novel he pulled from your bookshelf. You supposed he was only there to feed, but you attempted conversation anyway. To your surprise, he catered to your wishes. He was a skilled conversationalist and not a single chat was uninteresting to you.

His appearances often spooked you. One moment he wasn’t there and in the next, he’d suddenly materialize, looking like he’d been there for the past ten minutes. The first time he came without your expectance, you shrieked in fear, dropping what was in your hands. He seemed startled by your scream, eyes widening slightly before realizing in amusement that you’d only been spooked. He was holding back a laugh, you could see it, but he decided to hold back (whether it was because you were looking murderous or out of politeness, you didn’t know).

“Are you alright?” He asked, picking up the bag and the phone that you dropped.

Sighing, you accepted your belongings. “Yes. You scared me, Ignis.”

“Daemons have that affect on humans, don’t they?” He asked an amused lilt in his voice. You groaned at the terrible joke. Another thing – he was prone to making awful jokes and puns. You found it funny coming from him at first, but they progressively turned worse. It was like he was telling you all the jokes he’d ever learned throughout his entire life.

“Hey Ignis,” you began, setting your bag down on your coffee table, “how long do daemons live?”

His expression was a surprised one, as if he didn’t expect you to be interested in daemons after all you’d heard about them. It was quite the opposite actually – ever since meeting the reserved daemon, your curiosity about his species grew.

“We don’t really live very long. The longest living daemon I’m aware of is around a hundred and seventy-three years old,” he answered, taking a seat on your sofa.

“Most daemons die rather young, but we’ve never had a population problem, really. Most daemon families are large, but most daemons are also very foolish. Younger ones tend to dive straight into trouble and get themselves killed by human daemon hunters.”

You follow suit, sitting down at the opposite end of your sofa and pulling your legs close to your chest. You listened to Ignis’ information, drinking in all of it as you heard it through his rich voice. You kept an attentive eye to him, genuinely interested in what he had to say. Ignis wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable by your piercing gaze, yet it was quite a different experience. He hadn’t known many humans who weren’t afraid of him or actually wanted to hear what he said.

“Daemons don’t really have attachments to their biological families, so calling them as such is quite… taboo in daemon societies,” he went on. “Unlike humans, daemons begin to separate from their families as soon as they are able to function relatively properly. I suppose it’s why most daemons never learn from their mistakes. At what you humans consider a ripe age, daemons are already considered adults who are able to live on their own.

“If I may be truthful, I envy humans.” This surprised you. You furrowed your brow slightly, opening your mouth to ask why. He went on, not giving you a chance, but answering your unsaid question. “You humans, though superficial you can be, forge such interesting relationships with each other. Your emotions, which give us our energy, are so complex, yet so beautiful. I truly admire humans.”

Before you can stop yourself, you softly ask, “Is there a reason why?”

He looks struck for a moment, his emerald gaze turning to you. He frowns slightly before looking away again and you regret asking, feeling as if you might have brought up something rather sensitive.

“I suppose it’s because I’ve never had something like the comfort of the love of people around me,” he sighs. He turns to you with a wry smile – the slight upturn of the corner of his lips and the sound of a man who didn’t care in his voice.

 “You don’t need to pity me, by the way,” he told you. “It’s like this for all daemons. I’m not special. I don’t have much of a reason to feel like this.”

You didn’t ask about that topic again. You weren’t sure if you could stand to hear any more of it.

Another time, you’d fallen asleep in your living room as soon as you came home from work. You were out for what seemed like days, but was actually a couple of hours. When you’d come to, the sound of someone in the kitchen felt like remnants of your dream until you realized it was very real. Panicking at the thought of either Noctis or Prompto (Prompto especially) back in your kitchen, you scrambled off of your sofa, hoping to god that they were just looking for something and not attempting to cook. Instead of the notorious duo, however, you were met with a man in a suit at the oven and the normal scent of cooked food, rather than burned food.

 “Ignis?” You asked, dumbfounded.

 “Ah, [ Name ],” he greeted. “I’m not quite done, but it’s coming quite close, so you haven’t much longer to wait for dinner.”

 “Dinner?”

 “Yes. Haven’t I told you before? I’m an exceptional cook.”

“No. No you haven’t.”

He smiles slightly, turning his attention back to what he was cooking. You took it as a sign of a story to tell over dinner. Frowning slightly, you cautiously walked over, peeking over his shoulder to see what he was cooking. What if it was weird daemon food, like in books?

Alright, that was a bit farfetched, even for Ignis.

On the counter were two plates of cooked rice with fried cutlets of meat rested. They were garnished with a bit of greens that you didn’t even _know_ you had in your fridge. In the pot he was cooking in, Ignis stirred at some brown sauce that gave a nice smell. Admittedly, you were quite hungry. But Ignis said he wasn’t done yet, so you had to be patient…

 (That griffon breast you bought from the market looked _really_ good, though. Ignis certainly knew his way around the kitchen. You weren’t sure you would be able to make something like this. Of course, you saw this very same recipe online and bought the ingredients for it, but you had no idea where to start. Ignis cooked the entire damn thing like he made the recipe himself. What the hell?)

Finally, he spooned the sauce over the rice and griffon breast and set both plates on the table. You all but fell on your seat, eyes wide at what Ignis had concocted.

“Where’d you learn to cook?” You asked, picking up your fork.

“I learned to cook for myself, mainly. Daemons still eat, after all. Human emotions aren’t our only source of food. It’s more of a source of power that helps us continue existing.” He begins to eat the food he prepared and you stared at it. That made sense. Of course popular culture would be wrong about daemons’ diet – they were quite wrong about many things about them, really. You dug into the dinner he cooked for the both of you. You nearly whimpered – the flavors of the sauce paired well with the griffon breast and the rice. You were damn well surprised. You expected a normal dinner, not something that came from a gourmet’s hands.

“Are you sure you taught yourself to cook?” You demanded. You didn’t mean to sound so irritated, but your tone seemed to catch him off guard.

“Yes…?”

“This is- this is too good!” You exasperatedly gushed. “You _have_ to be some daemon gourmet!”

After regaining his composure, a small smile played upon Ignis’ lips. “My boss told me the same thing.”

“Boss?”

“Yes. I work for the son of a high-ranking daemon in our society,” he explains, putting his fork down.

“Wait, wait – there are ranks among daemons?” You ask, confused.

“It’s more of a… a caste system perhaps? Something of the sort. It’s quite a cruel one at that – you are born into your caste and you cannot become a higher caste than you already are. The daemon I work for – a bit younger than me, actually – his father is of a high rank. He’s not the highest ranking daemon, mind you… That title belongs to someone a little unsavory. Anyway, the father of who I work for is technically my employer.”

You digest this information. You’d never heard of an actual “system” with daemons, so hearing about it was unfamiliar. Maybe daemons were more misunderstood than you thought.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about daemons then,” you say softly. And you want to say that you want to learn more about them because of meeting him, but you cannot bring yourself to say it. The words get lodged in your throat and instead, you continue to eat in an attempt to swallow your words.

You’re running late for work the next day. You’re swearing as you push past people to get to the small café that you took up a part-time job at. Strangely enough, there are more people than usual today. Maybe your manager did something with advertisement? You don’t remember anything special being advertised, though. You weren’t complaining, anyhow. Surely whatever Cor did meant more customers for the café.

“Excuse me!” You exclaimed over the clamor, trying to push your way through the crowd. It was then that you realized something was wrong. There were flashes of blue and red lights and calls from serious-sounding voices. You see the familiar, tall head among the strangers that surround you like a beacon. You push past the people around you and tug on your manager’s jacket sleeve to get his attention. When he sees you, his lips press into a hard line and he turns his body fully to block the sight behind him.

“Cor, what’s going on?” You ask, trying to see past him. He doesn’t give you a chance.

“You need to go, [ Name ],” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrug it off, furrowing your brow. “There’s been an accident with Crowe and Libertus. A daemon accident.”

Your blood runs cold, and all the clamor from the onlookers suddenly goes silent. Crowe was your coworker and Libertus was a customer who always came too early in the morning, but no one ever minded. If an accident happened, it had to be when Crowe was opening up the café with Libertus at 6 in the morning – that was cutting it close for a daemon who couldn’t function well in the middle of the day. The reality of the situation is enough to make you sick to your stomach. For some reason, it hurts more than it should and you don’t get it.

“What…happened,” you manage through clenched teeth and closed fists.

“Libertus came early before work, just like he always does. Crowe came, and apparently, a daemon just… attacked.”

“So how do we know it’s actually a daemon if it killed Crowe and Libertus and just left?” You asked shakily. That’s how it usually was. No one would figure out it was a daemon until after the autopsy.

“The daemon was dead beside them,” Cor answered, a hard look in his eyes. Yours widened.

“W…what do you mean? What are you talking about?” You demanded, your voice reaching tones of desperation. He was holding back information – what the hell was he talking about?

“Another daemon killed the daemon that killed Crowe and Libertus.” He paused, looking at the ground. “Crowe killed the daemon before it fled and before she died. She was a daemon, [ Name ].”

For a moment, it seemed like something clicked in your head. Something went _through_ you and you understood. Crowe hated mornings. She passed it off as not being a morning person, but she was exhausted during the day, too. She never seemed to be actually fatigued, though – just that it was _tiring_ being there.

“Did you know?” You ask Cor. He shakes his head.

“She tried to save him, didn’t she?” You ask next, your voice soft.

“What?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Crowe,” you answer, looking past Cor to the direction where your friends lay. Your view was blocked by people and police officers. “Crowe and Libertus were close. Practically siblings, Cor, and you know it, too. Crowe… tried to save him. Libertus.”

“[ Name ], what are you talking about? Crowe was a daemon. She wouldn’t have tried to protect Libertu-“

“Then why is the daemon dead?” You ask, glaring at your tired manager. “If Crowe and the other daemon were working together, she wouldn’t have killed the other daemon.”

Cor went silent. He was a good guy and you knew it. He was stern, but soft on the inside. He always made sure to care for you and Crowe and Libertus and your other coworkers and customers. He wasn’t as close-minded as other people, so even if he knew very little about the true nature of daemons, you knew he was trying to understand your way of thinking.

“Say you’re right,” he told you, a troubled crease between his eyebrows. “Say you’re right and Crowe was trying to protect Libertus. It doesn’t… it doesn’t change anything.”

You pursed your lips. He was right. Crowe and Libertus were still dead. You knew he was grieving. You were, too.

He turned and grabbed the shoulder of another man who’d just arrived – your coworker, Nyx – and spoke to him. “Nyx. Take [ Name ] home and go home, too. The café is closed today.”

“Why, what’s happening?” He asked, immediately alert. You shook your head and grabbed his arm, pulling him away. You couldn’t tell him here.

That afternoon, you were in your living room with Noctis and Prompto, who agreed to comfort you after the incident at work. You were still shaken up – you might not have known Crowe and Libertus as well as they did each other, but the prospect of having the occurrence so close to you was… terrifying, to say the least. It didn’t matter if there was one daemon you knew was nice. There were still malicious daemons out there.

Your housemates were glad to keep you company, which you appreciated _immensely_. While Noctis kept you anchored to the couch (literally, with his body – he laid on top of you and you were quite sure that you would never be able to get up ever again), Prompto was the one who mulled about, grabbing snacks, the TV remote, your laptop, anything to distract you. Surprisingly, he was the first to fall asleep. Noctis was still awake when you dozed off, but when you awoke some hours later, he snored quietly by your ear. You laughed quietly to yourself at the sight of your adorable friends and pried yourself from their sleepy, affectionate grips.

You were surprised to see Ignis sitting in your kitchen, calmly sipping at a can of coffee and reading a book you recall buying years ago, but never reading. It must have been quite late for him to be here. You worried a bit – Noctis and Prompto were still in the other room.

“Good evening,” he greets politely. “Have a good nap?”

Your worries seem to fly away.

“Did you pull that from my bookshelf?” You ask amusedly, pouring yourself a glass of water. He frowns slightly and then looks at the novel in his hands.

“Yes, I hope  you don’t mind,” he says slowly. You take a seat across from him with your glass of water and take a peek at the cover. You don’t remember why you bought it, really. Some guy’s cookbook or something. It look interesting so you figured you might get something out of it, but once you put it down, you never picked it back up.

“Is something the matter?” He asks softly.

“Hm? No, sorry,” you say quickly, pulling your gaze away from the book. You look back at Ignis and offer him a smile.

“I’m not talking about right now,” he says then, closing _Oric’s Culinary Chronicles_. “Did something happen? You’re unusually quiet.”

Your smile dropped from your face. Were you that easy to read? Was it on your face, in your movements? You tried your best to show Noctis and Prompto that you were alright, but it seemed that you couldn’t hide anything from Ignis. It was in vain in the first place – you knew Ignis was far too smart and would see through you immediately. He knew you so well for only knowing you for two months.

It’s not to say that you didn’t know him, either. He had a penchant for canned coffee, or at least black coffee. He wasn’t able to take on a human disguise like other daemons. Ignis fiddled with his gloves and his glasses whenever he dodged a question or was particularly shifty. He hated historical fiction and was rather fond of fantasy and sci-fi. He only fed when he had your permission and you were glad because being fed off of felt weird. He had no need of glasses, but he wore them anyway, just because he liked seeing everything clearly. The first time you teased him and called him a nerd, his cheeks colored and he indignantly refused to cook you dinner for the next three nights. His favorite thing to do was leave a string of Kermit the Frog searches in your laptop’s search history. He was petty as hell and – you’re getting pretty off topic.

The point is, you knew each other remarkably well for a human and a daemon. You really shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were when he asked what the matter was. You sighed and laid your hands flat on the table as if you were surrendering.

You ended up telling him everything. Your job, the incident with Crowe and Libertus, and all of your worries that came with it. Without your awareness, Ignis had become your most trusted confidant. He was a great listener who provided advice when you needed it and even when you insisted that you didn’t (and that advice proved useful later on, because _of course_ it did). Despite the short time of knowing him, you _trusted_ him.

If anything, that scared you more than ever now.

You didn’t say it, but you didn’t have to Ignis had understood perfectly. He’d picked up on the fact that you trusted him and that suddenly you were scared.

Crowe was never a bad person. You knew that first hand. She was spunky and spontaneous, but she was never ill-natured. She was nothing but kind towards you (although you couldn’t say the same for her best friends). She never showed any sign of contempt towards you. There was no sign of her ever being a daemon (but of course, there were human disguises).

Suddenly, the impact of Crowe’s and Libertus’ deaths truly hit you. You’d lost two friends in one fell swoop. Would more of your friends slowly drop dead and leave you even more alone? Would it be at the hands of daemons again and again? Slowly, your face scrunched up and the tears fell over your cheeks. It was an ugly sob that came from your mouth and you covered it, ashamed of crying in front of Ignis. He didn’t need to deal with you like this.

To your surprise, he reached across the dining table and took your hands in his. With one hand, he held yours comfortingly while he wiped away your tears with the other. His brows were furrowed and he looked… upset. It showed in the downturned corner of his lips. It showed in the crease between his brows. It showed in the emerald irises of his dark eyes. But he didn’t voice it or why he was upset. He blinked and then the look was gone and replaced with the softness that made you cry even more.

“it’s not alright,” he says and you almost laugh. Of _course_ it wasn’t. But you knew he had more to say because _of course_ he did.

He closes his eyes and takes his hand from your face. “I cannot say that it’s alright because it is quite clearly _not_. Two friends of yours have been brutally killed and it’s unacceptable. But since it’s not alright, you are suffering. I don’t like to see you so hurt.”

He looks genuinely apologetic as he continues on. “Fact is, I’ve not seen you so distraught before. I’m at a bit of a loss, but I wish to try my best and comfort you because you do not deserve this pain. Your friends did not deserve their pain.”

“Ignis…” You softly spoke. It hurt. Your chest hurt because of the absence of two friends. You would never see them again, and that fact was a stab to the chest. But Ignis had said it – he didn’t like seeing you upset. You didn’t want to upset him either.

“Thank you,” you sniffle, wiping your tears. He hands you your glass of water and you gratefully drink from it.

“If I can be of any assistance, please inform me and I’ll do what I can. And if you wish not to see me, I’ll quickly shove off.” He tells you sincerely. You muster a thankful smile and nod.

“Now,” he says, standing up from his seat, “I ought to fix something up for dinner. I doubt you’ve eaten, and I’d say you’re in sore need of a good meal and a proper night’s rest.”

You wipe away the stray tears and laugh. You can’t help it. You’re thankful for Ignis. Even if he was a daemon, he comforted you and listened to your problems. It made you feel like you’ _weren’t_ alone.

(You failed to see his shaking hands as he cooked. The anger in his eyes behind his glasses. He nearly dropped the pan. He wasn’t sure if you pretended not to see it, or if you missed it completely.)

Ignis cooked  a lot. You weren’t sure where the hell he got the ingredients (but knowing him, he probably bought them himself), but soon, your table was full of dishes. You were prepared to eat more than half of them when you realized Ignis probably cooked this much for your dozing housemates. What a shame. You were looking forward to devouring that curry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, sorry, here's a longer(ish) chapter, i'm on choucobos if u need me xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> pt 1 of the daemon au lol  
> i'll get ignis out of the way first and the rest of the chocobros, i promise  
> in other news, i made a tumblr blog for my ffxv writings ( choucobos ) so feel free to follow there


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